


A Sentinel’s… Guide’s?... Nativity

by Sealie



Series: 'Uhane [16]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 11:59:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17141345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sealie/pseuds/Sealie
Summary: Possibly based on true events.





	A Sentinel’s… Guide’s?... Nativity

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: gen  
> Warning: none spring to mind  
> Spoilers: none  
> Disclaimer: writing for fun and not for profit  
> Beta: Kristen helped me put the final polish on it into a proper Christmas present for Springwoof. Thank you. 
> 
> Comments:  
> 1) British English spelling  
> 2) Sentinel AU fusion in the ‘Uhane universe  
> 3) 🎄🎁🔔❄Merry Christmasseskissus🎄🎁🔔❄

**A ~~Sentinel’s~~ Guide’s Nativity.**  
By sealie 

 

“Don’t forget we’re leaving the office at two pm sharp,” Danny said. 

“What?” Steve set down his highlighter beside the inch thick asset report. 

“Two o’clock.” Danny’s eyes narrowed. “You forgot didn’t you?”

“Forgot?” Steve echoed. Forgot what? There was nothing in their work calendar, in fact it was weirdly clear especially this close to Christmas. There should be budget meetings and risk-threat analysis workshops assessing pre-Christmas events, and even the obligatory Aliʻiōlani Hale office eggnog party. 

“George’s Nativity,” Danny said, like he was explaining everything. 

“George’s Nativity?” Steve didn’t think that George had been christened or anything like that. 

“At kindergarten,” Danny non-explained. “Well, pre-school, kindergarten–elementary-school kids.”

Danny and Rachel had insisted, decided, argued, came to the conclusion that George needed to go to pre-kindergarten at Grace and Nahele’s stupidly expensive school, for at least a couple of days a week, so he could learn how to engage with children of his own age. Danny, the oldest of a large family, and Rachel, the only child of two older parents, both agreed that more exposure to other kids the better. 

Steve still wasn’t sure why he had been involved in the discussion – albeit peripherally (he’d said yes, and ducked for cover). 

“Nativity at Academy of Sacred Hearts Elementary school,” Steve finally connected the dots. “But how does that work, aren’t you--”

“On my mother’s side – yes. Father’s side: catholic. But if you call me any form of a nut, I will punch you in the kidney -- hard.” 

Steve held up his hands in surrender. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. 

“So there’s going to be a Nativity?” Steve checked. “Isn’t the school non-denominational?”

“Meh.” Danny rocked his hand from side to side. “The clue is in the name, but they try to respect all religions. I’m pretty sure that there will be Hula, and based on George’s really convoluted explanation last night at bath time, I think that _what’s-his-face with the fish hook_ is standing in for the Angel Gabriel.” 

“Maui?”

“Yeah, him.” Danny pointed his finger. “We’re leaving at two.” 

Steve guessed that they were leaving at two.

🎄🎁🔔❄

It was pandemonium. Steve didn’t know how Danny, a sentinel with really sensitive ears could handle it. They had followed a host of other adults -- more accurately, parents and guardians and aunts and uncles and the like -- into a sports hall that had been decked out by Christmas Elves on steroids.

Steve folded his long limbs into a tiny plastic chair, knees up by his elbows. 

“Why aren’t we sitting on the adult seats?” Steve asked, meaning the rank and file of seating behind them. 

“One,” Danny said with sage wisdom, cell phone in hand, “this is the best vantage point for the best photos, and two, parents and guardians get to sit in these seats for reasons.” 

“But isn’t everyone here a parent or guardian of some sort?” It was a pre-school-kindergarten play, Steve thought. It wasn’t as if it was open to the general public. 

“The youngest pupils. So they can see you,” Danny further explained, “and be reassured.”

“Why? What’s likely to happen?” 

The lady scrunched in the seat on his other side, sniggered. “Anything, expect chaos.” 

“Isn’--,” music blared bright and cheerful, and altogether too twee for words, interrupting Steve. 

Gaudily wrapped, present-children danced onto the stage or lolloped. Steve wasn’t too sure. Their little forms were obscured by gift wrap and enormous bows. They kind of careened off each other like contestants in one of the late night gameshows that Danny watched in the hours between midnight and dawn when dogged by insomnia. A teacher scurried across the stage, half bent over double, as if that somehow rendered her invisible to corral the kids into a group around a Christmas tree on the far right-hand side of the stage.

“Christmas is about giving and caring for your fellow man,” the Narrator began over the PA. 

“And woman,” the mother next to Steve whispered _sotto voce_. 

“Amen, sister,” another person, behind Steve said. 

And then the Hula began. Seven to nine year olds -- what did Steve know? -- walked smoothly on from both sides of the stage. One line of girls and one line of boys formed up. They were wearing authentic Hula dress, but they had tinsel instead Ti leaf headdresses. The tallest girl and the tallest boy – who were probably about four foot, took centre stage and began their dance. 

Steve had to give them ten out of ten for enthusiasm. The gift-giving narration was a little strange because the story the kids were trying to tell with each twist of their arms and stamp of their feet, actually, if Steve was interpreting their gestures correctly, was about the Ocean behind the Mother. 

“You’re over analysing,” Danny muttered. “Whoops, here we go.”

A bunch of tiny, shepherd-dressed pre-schoolers, shepherded (Steve chortled internally) by Rachel and a couple of other moms, milled onto the stage. A tyke dropped their fluffy lamb and started to cry, which set off another toddler. 

George starred mulishly at the offenders, stalwart in his little flannel blue bathrobe and sandals. Already corralling two toddlers, Rachel chivvied him along with her feet like guiding a football in English soccer. 

Danny snapped off a series of photographs. 

It appeared that the shepherds were going to be huddling around the Christmas tree with the present-children, instead of sitting on a hill with their flocks, washing their socks, waiting for the Angel Gabriel-Maui to announce Jesus’ birth. 

“Is that Diamond?” Steve whispered, quietly. George looked a little too bamboozled by the whole experience to be able to hear them. 

“What?” Danny leaned forwards.

George wasn’t toting a cuddly toy but their white cat. She was remarkably phlegmatic, hanging loosely in his arms. 

“Christ,” Danny said, appropriately given the circumstances. “You don’t suppose he also brought Moku and Gandalf?” 

“He should have brought Vel, being a shepherd and all,” Steve said cleverly. 

“You think that you’re funny, but you’re really, really not.” 

A choir of angels filed in from stage right and left, two lines deep, and broke into a high pitched rendition of Little Donkey that made Danny cross his eyes until Steve grabbed his hand. 

As they sang their little hearts out, a classically blue decked Mary, cushion tucked under her dress, hand in hand with another bathrobe clad Joseph trooped at great pace down the centre aisle. No ambling with a little tired donkey for hyped up eight year olds.

The choral piece finished and the classically dressed angels, complete with wire halos, exited stage left. Getting them off stage was probably a good idea since the stage was getting pretty packed. The Hula dancers got to stay, clustered together on the left-side of the stage by the steps. 

“And Mary and Joseph came to Honolulu to be counted,” the Narrator boomed. 

“I’m pretty sure that it was Bethlehem,” Steve said in an aside. 

Danny ignored him. 

“Census means counted,” the Narrator continued. “The occupying government wanted a record of all its peoples.” 

“They’ve kind of glossed over the Virgin Mary and Angel Gabriel visiting,” Steve observed. 

Danny poked him.

Mary and Joseph clomped up onto the stage. The cushion fell out of the bottom of Mary’s dress; Steve bit down on his bottom lip, and a hundred moms and dads tittered. 

Joseph left Mary to wrangle the cushion with another bent over teacher trying to be invisible, determined to follow his instructions, as per the Narrator, to knock on every door painted on the canvas at the back of the stage. 

“NO ROOM IN THE INN!” Boomed one stocky seven year old with a surprisingly loud bass. “I HAVE A STABLE!” 

“THANK YOU, IOKUA,” Joseph wasn’t to be out done. “I MEAN INNKEEPER,” 

The backdrop of painted doors was creakily winched upwards to the ceiling. Steve held his breath half hoping that it would stick part way up, but it made its way inch by inch to the ceiling and out of sight. A fairly decent painting of an open air stable, with a night sky dominated by a supernova or extinction threatening comet, was revealed. 

A crib and a couple of chairs were thrust onto the stage from the wings. 

Mary had had enough of the cushion and she punted it off stage right. 

“And during the night the baby Jesus was born,” the Narrator said, with perfect timing. 

Danny laughed loudly, like a drain pipe in full spate. And the rest of the audience lost it. 

“DANNO!” George heard his daddy and shrieked joyfully. 

“Oh my god,” Steve said. This was the best thing ever – he was so glad that Danny had invited him. 

“MINE! ❤ ❤❤ ❤❤❤.” The pulse of love through the hall made everyone coo. 

Moving at the speed of light, Rachel intercepted George before he launched himself off the stage. Diamond, however, was a cat. 

“Grab the pussy,” Rachel said, because she was English. “I mean the cat!”

They hadn’t a hope in hell of catching Diamond, she had Nativited-out. Danny sounded like he was having an asthma attack. The lady behind Steve was laughing so hard that her heels were drumming against the floor as she convulsed. Diamond clawed her way up the side curtain. 

“Excuse me,” Steve unfolded his long limbs. He felt like a giant amidst the tiny chairs and scrunched up adults. He side stepped two parents and opted to step over the next two. “Diamond?” 

Steve knew his cats; he had been with them since they were born. He had nursed them, winded them, and cleaned up after them. Steve was the cats’ safe place. 

Diamond froze, clinging to the curtains with outstretched claws. She saw her haven and twisted as only a cat could twist and dropped with cat-accuracy into Steve’s arms. 

“Maui! The Angel Maui. Tattoos.” One of the shepherds pointed at Steve. 

“That’s MINE,” George protested. 

A teacher eyed him feverishly. “Our Maui literally just peace-d out. You’re our stand in.” 

“What?” 

There was a mom in the front row holding a sobbing little angel with paper wings on her lap. The teacher thrust a staff complete with gold tinsel star into his free hand. She had some seriously evolved kid-wrangling skills, because the next thing Steve knew was that he was standing centre stage, staff in one hand, and Diamond draped over his shoulder. 

“And the Angel Gabr-Maui came down from Heaven,” said the Narrator, “and spoke unto the shepherds…” 

He had a line? That wasn’t fair. 

_Make something up_ , Danny mouthed between laughs. He had his phone out, and Steve knew that he was recording the whole thing. George smashed into Steve’s legs and clutched him tightly. 

“Uhm. Hark the Herald?” Steve fudged. “The angels sing?” 

The Hula dancers cheered. Oh, they were the local angels, Steve, belatedly figured out. The tinsel halos instead of the Ti leaf lei poʻo should have given it away. 

“Glory unto the new King?”

“And the Magi far into the East saw a star, a star _held_ high,” the Narrator said pointedly. 

Steve extended his arm with the staff and the star. Someone took a photo and Steve knew that he was going to end up on twitter. 

Three wise men -- three wise women – girls cantered down the centre aisle bearing gifts: gold, frankincense and myrrh. Why walk when you could run? 

“Mine.” George made grabby hands. 

Steve draped Diamond around his neck, like a faux fox stole, and hoisted George up. The littlest sentinel plastered his palm over Steve’s heart. 

_Noisy. Peeps_. George burrowed in under Steve’s mental bulwarks, using the secret door that only he seemed to know about, and settled in. _Mine_. Satisfaction pulsed. 

“The wise kahunas brought gold for his kingship, frankincense to heal, and myrrh for his embalming,” the Narrator said as the three wise women raced across the stage to throw their magnificently wrapped gifts at Mary and Joseph. 

Prompted by their wranglers, the kids dressed as presents cheered. 

“The gifts had meaning, they weren’t frivolous.”

Embalming. Frivolous. The Narrator seemed to have forgotten their cast, Steve thought. 

“The presents that you give your mommies and daddies and guardians are built of love,” the Narrator continued. 

Music tinkled through the speakers; another carol was queued. _Away in a Manger_ , complete with professional vocals, supported by the host of off-tune school kids on the stage, rang out through the hall. 

There was another cadence to add to the chaos: 

“And now is the time to give out your presents,” the Narrator said. 

George wiggled and obediently Steve let him down. Rachel and the other moms, Steve noticed, had large wicker baskets. George got in first beating a larger five year old to the loot. Rachel and the other moms were swarmed. 

“Me.” “Miss.” “NO!” “That’s Bethany’s!” went the yelling. 

George emerged victorious from the throng, three glitter shedding, cardboard cut-out Christmas decorations clutched in his chubby fists. 

“Mine, mine,” he chirruped with none of the empathic resonance that vibrated through Steve’s bones. He smushed one decoration into Rachel’s hand. “Mele kalikimaka!”

The kids, Steve belatedly realised, were supposed to give the gifts to their guardians. What bright spark had come up with that idea? They were on the stage and the parents were sitting in the hall. And the kids couldn’t be any more hyped up if they had had a boat load of sugar. 

“Danno!” 

Danny was already primed and ready to catch George as he dove off the stage into his arms. Glitter sparkled behind him. No sedately walking down the little steps at the side for the smallest sentinel on O’ahu. 

“Mele kalikimaka, Danno!” George smacked a sloppy kiss on Danny’s cheek. 

Kids raced towards Steve. 

“No,” Steve boomed, cat in hand and using his staff like a trident. He stood firm stopping anymore lemming-like diving off the stage. “Steps, one at a time and hold the rail. Holy Mother Mary, you get to go first.” 

“Yes!” She abandoned Baby Jesus into the crib without a second glance and darted off stage. 

The teachers and moms dove in, helping gather up the kids and get them to the steps in an orderly fashion. Sort of orderly fashion. 

“Joseph. Innkeeper. You’re next,” Steve ordered. 

“Hulu Angels grab a kindergartener – oldest looking after youngest,” the teacher who had gifted Steve with his Maui Staff directed. 

Bing Crosby singing _Mele kalikimaka_ started over the PA. Steve shot a horrified glance at Danny, who laughed impossibly harder. 

“They could at least do the Jimmy Buffett version,” Steve protested. 

“Get your butt down here, Angel Maui. George has a present for you.”

“MINE!” George waved his decoration widely. It was already a little crumpled. “Come here!”

Danny met Steve at the bottom of the stage steps, as he sedately took his place between one of the wise kahunas and a Hulu Angel. 

“Mele kalikimaka.” Leaning out of his Danno’s arms, George tangled his fingers in the collar of Steve’s t-shirt and tugged them into a three way hug. 

“How did you enjoy your first Nativity?” Danny asked, his breath warm on Steve’s cheek. 

“I don’t think that it was my first.” Steve affectionately nuzzled Danny’s temple. “I kinda recall being an angel in first grade.”

“The first and last time you were an angel.” Danny pulled back so he could grin at Steve properly. 

“Not true. Patently, not true. I am the Angel Maui.” Steve brandished his starry staff. 

“Thanks, Maui.” The teacher plucked it from his hand as she sailed past, arrowing towards a kindergartener who judging by his wobbly bottom lip hadn’t found his parents. “I expect you same time, same bat channel next year. And nice work on the ad-libbing.” 

“Next year?” Steve mused. 

He wouldn’t miss it for the world. 

**The end.**

 

And that is the story of how Steve McGarrett appeared in his ~~first~~ second Nativity


End file.
